


Blue

by BubbleOJoy



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Warm Bodies Fusion, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Character Death, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, If you squint at it, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Necrophilia, Romance, Violence, Zombie!Nico, zombie x human relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 07:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25467010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleOJoy/pseuds/BubbleOJoy
Summary: Will Solace was born twelve years after the zombie apocalypse started. Thankfully, his city is protected by walls that keep out the infected... but it's not perfect. They're in desperate need of medical supplies and Will's class is selected to go beyond the walls to gather what they need.In an unexpected turn of events, Will finds himself at the mercy of a zombie. He's prepared for death... but it doesn't come. Just his luck that he'd encounter a zombie that was... different from the others.~I watched the film 'Warm Bodies' the other day and thought it'd be cute to put a Solangelo twist on the story <3 Basically, human Will slowly falls in love with zombie Nico xx
Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Comments: 47
Kudos: 118





	1. Inevitable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! Thank you for tuning in! This chapter is a bit stodgy in places, but I thought I'd post it anyway; it's more of a background information thing than anything else :)
> 
> Please, if you find any spelling mistakes or have any suggestions or corrections, please let me know! I'm open to all ideas <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading! I've already written the next four chapters, so this story will be updating regularly xxx
> 
> (Note, I am British; please forgive any spelling differences!)

As the sun poked up from beyond the horizon, casting the sky with rays of purple and blue, a shuffling came from outside Will's door, stirring him awake.

He kept his head down, trying to make as little noise as possible, as he listened carefully.

He heard his door swing open with a thump and heavy footsteps plod into his bedroom, making his heart skip a beat. His fingers itched towards the weapon he kept under his pillow.

The intruder groaned a pained, low noise.

Will rolled his eyes.

"Kayla..."

The trespasser flopped down onto his bed, crushing him, and let out a loud, fake snore.

"William," she moaned. "It's too early."

Will sighed and pushed her off him, hitting her with his 'weapon', otherwise known as Mr Cuddles the teddybear. 

Just another typical morning.

Ever since his younger sister Kayla had joined the academy, she'd been difficult to deal with in the mornings; they started lessons at 6:30 which, in her opinion, was Satan's doing.

"It's your own fault, you know," he chuckled. "I did warn you when you signed up."

He ignored the spiteful stare she shot him. "Don't mock me."

"I wouldn't dare!" Will held his hands up in defence and Kayla stuck out her tongue at him. His gaze softened as he looked at her, a hand reaching up to brush the artificially green hair from her face. She was so beautiful, his baby sister.

"Come on," he hummed, grabbing her hand. "We gotta get dressed. Have you had breakfast?"

She rubbed her eyes and sat up. "Austin's on it, I think. He's in a better mood than I am, the bastard."

Will grinned at his siblings' disorder. Austin and Kayla were twins, seven years younger than him, and were coping quite differently with joining the academy. Kayla was a whiz after about two o'clock, whereas Austin only functioned in the early hours of the morning.

Will hadn't remembered it being _that_ bad when he first joined, but that was a long time ago.

William Solace was eighteen and, after years of brutal work, was about to graduate from the Olympus Academy. It was something to be proud of, the graduation assessment; it showed you were one of the best, one of the protectors. Will didn't quite understand the pride... all he felt was fear.

After getting dressed in his military uniform and eating a hurried breakfast with the twins, they bid their mother, Naomi, goodbye and set out down the street.

It was safe to walk in the road as there weren't cars anymore; there was no need for them. Everything here was within walking distance. He used to jog the short trip to school to keep up his fitness, but Austin and Kayla weren't having any of that. They trudged along as a trio, Will trying to drown out the groans and arguing of his siblings.

His eyes flittered up to the sky where a small flock of birds flew overhead. He smiled. It was rare to see any animal when in the city other than the guard dogs they keep around the borders and the bees in the honey-hives, but the birds still came and went as they pleased. Lucky things.

Will felt a breeze brush through his hair and sighed. It was the day after tomorrow... his assessment. He wondered if he'd see any animals, something more than just dogs and bees and birds.

They rounded the corner and the school swung into sight, making Will's stomach feel funny.

Their school probably looked like a normal school once; he figured normal school didn't have weapons training areas and combat arenas and pictures of dead creatures on the walls. Will wouldn't know; he was a second-generation survivor, born twelve years after the city went into lockdown, so this _was_ his 'normal'.

Kayla and Austin ran off to join their lessons. Will slowly went to his. The door of his classroom felt heavier than usual.

"Hey, hotshot!" A call rang through the room. "You psyched or what?"

It was Clarisse, a beefy, rough-looking girl with choppy hair and a devilish smile; if there was anyone here that he'd feel safe with, it was her.

"Clarisse," Will queried as he watched her bounce around the room. "You seem... excited."

"Excited? Dude," she smirked. "I've been ready for this my whole life. I can't believe it's finally here. Gotta get myself pumped up, you know?"

He did know. People dealt with it differently. For Clarisse, the whole 'ready to go' attitude... it worked for her.

"Yeah, yeah. You go get 'em, girl," he winked.

After her, each of his classmates filed in one by one.

"Happy Tuesday, my dudes!" There was Leo, in all his scrawny glory; he wasn't the fighter that Clarisse was, but he could build both basic technology and weapons from pretty much anything he found laying around.

The next kid in the graduating class was Frank. At least, Will had always thought of him as a kid, despite the fact the guy was older than him by a few months; until his growth spurt last year, he'd had the worst case of baby-face known to man. Now, though, he was tall, muscular, and the best archer in Olympus. He was the best for picking off the dead-guys silently.

Piper was always good to Will; they'd known each other since they were born. Piper was invaluable when it came to survival skills. Nimble on her feet, she could manoeuvre her way out of any sticky situation and be able to survive on her own for long periods.

Will wasn't as cool as the others. 

Sure, he was strong, muscly, relatively handsome, but he wasn't talented. He could fight, but not very well. He could handle archery, but it wasn't a reliable defence for him. He was fast, but not fast enough to outrun anything on his tail, and he was sure he'd die within an hour if he got stranded by himself.

Of course, he wasn't a complete waste; Will Solace just happened to be an excellent medic, one of the best the town had ever seen. His healing skills were second only to his father, one of the commanding officers of Olympus.

He only continued to doubt his usefulness because, well... what good was he going to be if someone got bitten? There was nothing he _could_ do.

He'd rather not think about it.

They began training that morning a little differently than usual; on any other occasion, they'd always have combat in the morning, shooting practise, maybe some survival skills, before moving on to less practical work in the afternoon.

Today, however, they started by going over maps, checking and double-checking the routes they'd be taking.

They looked at different camp spots, possible layout changes, the safety zones and the... not-so-safety zones. Will knew their mission inside and out: go in, locate the pharmacy, grab what they needed, and get the hell outta dodge.

It was simple.

They moved on to some basic anatomy training that, even though they'd heard it a thousand times, they listened to attentively.

The first rule: you can't outrun them; they move slowly most of the time, but if they catch a whiff of human, something in their motor receptors goes funny. It'll be abrupt, but suddenly they'll be able to run much faster than any human ever could.

The infection is spread through body fluids. If they bite you, it's instant infection. It's always good to have your mouth covered; they don't bleed - no beating heart - but don't think there isn't gross decomposer juice to worry about. You shoot a walker, it tends to splatter.

Don't feel bad; these aren't people. The 'people' part of them is long dead; the only thing driving their brains is this infection. If you hesitate because you feel bad shooting something that looks human, you will die.

These aren't normal dead things. They do not decompose as humans should; it's practical for the virus to keep its victims' bodies from breaking down. A zombie could have been dead for thirty years and still be able to outrun you. If you go out there thinking their movements will be hindered by their decomposing form, again, you will die.

They work through noise and smell. Be as quiet as you can, use a bow and arrow where possible; they're attracted by loud noises. They'll only be able to smell you once they're within a close range; that's when their speed kicks in. From there, your options are to lose them somehow or attempt to fight. The likelihood of getting out of one of those situations is... slim. Don't attract them in the first place.

There's other stuff, important stuff, but if there's one thing to learn from anatomy training, it's the kill shot: shoot for the head, damage the brain, kill for good.

The day moved slowly, but also fast. Will couldn't really tell. It was a bit blurry. He felt sick.

The others were like that too, but they, much like Will, didn't show it.

"Hola, hola! How is we doing, huh?" Leo picked up his impish grin as he clapped Will on the shoulder.

Will nodded. "Same old, same old," he grinned. "Hey, you been hitting the gym, Valdez?" He squeezed Leo's arm. Compared to Will's strong and muscular body, Leo looked like a twig, but he still rolled up his sleeves and flexed his non-existent biceps.

"You know it, blondie. You _wish_ you had guns like mine." Leo winked at Piper, who was leaning on the wall next to Will. She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, _definitely,_ " she smirked. Will threw his arm around the smaller girl, pretending he didn't notice how much she was shaking. "Team Leo all the way."

Will laughed at her, kissing the top of her head lightly. They'd been like siblings since they were kids; before the twins were born, she _was_ his sibling.

"Um, guys," Frank mumbled from the corner. He was fiddling with the end of his bow and arrow. "I, erm, I can normally do this. It's just... it's just stuck. I need, I can't -"

Will went over to him and laid a hand on Frank's. "It's cool, buddy. Here," he smiled, guiding Frank's hands through the knot to untie it. "See, just like you've done a thousand times before."

The Asian boy let out a shaky breath. "Yeah, of course," he chuckled. "Just got butterfingers today."

"You're kidding! I had butterfingers yesterday," laughed Clarisse. "I'm all fine today, though."

Frank nodded; he understood. Will hummed. The others drifted into silence.

Not one of them let it show.

They acted brave, fearless. They all did... they had to; the truth was much scarier.

Will looked around him. The group would be smaller by next week; someone died in the assessment, someone always did. These were his friends, his family. He just... he wondered which one of them it'd be. It could be Leo or Frank. It could be Piper or Clarisse. It could be him.

It... it could be him.

When he got home later that day, he threw up as soon as he walked through the door.

He sat over a bucket with his mum next to him, brushing the hair out of his eyes and whispering soft comforts, until his insides were burning and there was nothing left for him to puke up.

When he started to cry, his mother lay him down beside her, his head resting on her knees. Hot, messy tears streamed down his face as he wailed into her hands. She stayed with him; they were there for a long time.

When he went to bed, Austin and Kayla came to kiss him goodnight. They didn't quite know the severity of it all, they were a little too young for that. Will didn't want to explain to them what the reality was.

"Is it scary?" Kayla asked as she kissed his cheek. Will nodded down at her, resisting the urge to puke again.

"Yeah, baby girl. It is scary."

"It's just a test, though," hummed Austin. "You're great at those; you'll be okay." He took his turn at kissing Will's face, stained once more with tears.

"I'll be okay."

He waited until he was sure both kids were sound asleep in their bedrooms before crawling out of bed, feet cold on the wooden floor. He crept into his parents' room, just like he did when he was little. His mum was awake - he knew she would be - and she lifted the corner of the covers to let him clamber in.

He spent the night like that, curled up in his mother's arms. He woke occasionally with a gasp or a scream, but she was right there to comfort him.

The thought that, in less than 48 hours, he might never see his mum again, never be held by her... it was enough to make him spring up from the sheets and run to the bathroom again to vomit.

He acted brave with his class and with his siblings, he had to, but in truth... Will Solace was terrified.

Thursday could very well be the day he died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this! Please, if you have any comments or things you'd like to note, let me know <3


	2. Outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you spot any spelling/grammar mistakes, and if there are any pointers or improvements you have for me, don't hesitate to leave a comment :)
> 
> I'm hopefully going to post chapter three (my favourite chapter) later today, so stay tuned for that <3
> 
> (I'm British, so ignore any spelling differences xx)

On Thursday morning, the house was quiet.

Will had woken up to the soft sound of birds chirping past the window. For a while, he just lay there, curling himself up further into the blankets. They smelled like his mum, all warm and floral. He wanted to stay there forever, staying still in peace.

Unfortunately, he could not.

He had to be at the commanding base in about an hour. It was a long journey, so they couldn't afford to waste any daylight hours. He'd have the rest of this morning to... get ready.

Dragging himself out of his parents' bedroom, he went to take a shower. Thankfully, his mum or dad had already boiled some water for him; he hated always having to use freezing rainwater. He sighed in content as the warm water cascaded over his shoulders. His hair dripped into his eyes as he rested his forehead against the bathroom wall. 

He tried to breathe.

He got dressed into his combat uniform: a pair of cargo trousers, a fitted T-shirt, a thick jacket with padded sleeves and supply pockets, and walking boots; it was the best the city could pull together.

Will softly padded downstairs, where the silence continued to linger. His mum was in the kitchen, making some sort of breakfast, though he didn't feel hungry. Kayla and Austin were strangely quiet, flashing Will small smiles as he entered the room.

He forced himself to eat his scrambled egg; it might be the last meal he had.

His dad was home, which was unusual. Will's father was a commanding officer, one of twelve governors of Olympus; he was rarely home, but he played such a big part in keeping the city safe that Will didn't mind. Today, however, he'd stayed behind to walk Will to the base, a gesture Will appreciated. 

He coughed as he swallowed the last of his breakfast. He wasn't convinced he wouldn't throw it back up again later.

His supplies and equipment were waiting for him at the command base, so there was nothing left for him to stall with. It was time for him to go.

He hesitated by the door, waiting for the last-minute telegram saying that the assignment was off and he didn't have to go. It didn't come.

Kayla and Austin, their usual irritating personas gone, came up and hugged him around the waist; they seemed so little compared to him, so small. He wanted to stay with them, to hold them and never stop.

They let go after a few silent minutes, stepping back to allow Naomi through. He stood for a moment, gazing at his beautiful mum. Her long hair fell past her shoulders and her bright blue eyes matched Will's exactly. She was the most perfect being in the whole world; he was doing this for her. 

He pulled her into a tight hug, muffling his cries by burrowing into her shoulder. Even though he, like he was with his siblings, was much taller than his mum, he felt so infinitely small in her arms.

"Mama..."

"Shh, baby," she whispered into his hair. "It's okay. It's okay."

He pressed further into her soft skin, mumbling 'mama' over and over like a mantra. She smelled like the daisies that grew in their window boxes; Will breathed it in like oxygen, afraid he'd suffocate if he ever forgot that smell.

"I love you, mama."

"I love you too, my baby."

His father wrapped a firm arm around the hugging pair, beckoning to Will that it was time to leave. He prised them apart, much to Will's distress, and brushed a hand against his son's cheek.

Will let his mind go blank, blocking out the painful whimpers of his mum as he walked out the door. He wandered out into the street, taking in the day; it was warm, with a bright blue sky, and a soft breeze rippled through the trees. It was nice.

He looked back towards his house, the place he'd lived all his life. It wasn't perfect, a bit run-down and makeshift, but it was his home. He wanted to come back here.

Naomi was still standing in the doorway, clutching the two children to her side. She looked broken, not like the usual glowing woman he saw each day. As Will's father followed him out, she held out her hand, reaching towards her son. Will did the same.

Apollo closed the door behind him and, just like that, she was gone.

He let out a capitulating sigh.

He and his father walked down the road in silence. Will didn't want to talk... perhaps he couldn't even if he wanted to. Something was building in his throat, choking him.

The walk was agonisingly slow, but impossibly quick at the same time; he felt like he was dragging his feet along, but, when he blinked, the command building loomed into sight.

He could see the walls from here... well, you could see the walls from anywhere in Olympus, but they seemed significantly larger up close. They rose ten metres high, large slabs of grey concrete fortified with chunks of metal and wire. They blocked the entire outside world from view, penning in the citizens of Olympus like cattle.

Part of him was innately curious as to what lay outside the walls. Will was born almost twelve years after the apocalypse started and the walls were built, so he'd never been anywhere but Olympus. To leave home was... unnatural.

At the end of the road, the command base stood, a large building riddled with military weapons and personnel. This was where the officers of Olympus, his father included, worked to keep the town safe.

Standing outside the entrance, collected together in a small clump, were his classmates. They waved to him as he approached, but there was no light in their eyes.

"Morning, Will," Piper smiled as he joined the group. "Morning, Mr Solace."

"Good morning, Piper," Apollo nodded to her. He had his shoulders pulled back, posture upright like a soldier. That was his thing; Leo joked, Clarisse pumped up... Will's father bottled it in.

Will was the last to arrive in their group, so their introduction began as soon as he sat down in the courtyard. His father left to join the long line of officers that stood before them; the twelve commanding officers of Olympus always sent off the graduating classes on their assessment... as a way to honour those departing on their last mission.

He felt a chill run down his spine like a bolt of electricity as the Chief Commander emerged from the building. Commander Zeus was the leader of the Olympus city; whilst all the commanders had a say in the government of their town, Zeus sat at the head of the table. If there was one person you didn't want to piss off, it was the big guy.

His heavy combat boots clunked on the ground as he made his way over to them. In the centre of the courtyard, there stood a small platform for him to step on to, no doubt to make him seem even more intimidating than he already was.

"Soldiers," he boomed. His voice, despite having an eerie tone of calm, echoed around the group. Will gulped.

"Today, you do us a great service. I thank you for that. As you are aware, your mission today will take you outside these walls. It is a dangerous, but greatly necessary journey. Here are my words to you."

Zeus squinted at them, his jaw locked, and continued.

"We are running significantly low on medical supplies. Thanks to the efforts of our healing commander, Apollo, we have established new, renewable techniques that significantly decrease the supplies we need from the outside. 

However, there are people throughout Olympus that are suffering greatly from genetic illnesses and vitamin deficiencies because we do not have the resources to treat them. Today, you will be travelling deep into the city to retrieve for us such resources; with your efforts, we hope to develop stronger and healthier people that can defend our town.

This is a necessary journey," he barked. "You are putting yourselves in danger for the greater good. You are, bit by bit, changing the world. With your actions today, we come one step closer to regaining control."

Will swallowed. He knew what the Chief Commander was doing, trying to give them motivation, trying to convince them that this was worth it. To Will, his choice of words only conveyed one message: you are no greater than the pawns they sacrifice in chess.

Speaking of which, Zeus moved on to the next point in his spiel.

"Of course, this is the most dangerous task you will ever have to undertake. Survival is not guaranteed. In past years, we have lost many good people in this assessment. You must honour those who came before you: Lee Fletcher, Charles Beckendorf, Michael Yew, Silena Beauregard. Last year, both Annabeth Chase and my nephew, Percy Jackson, died trying to gather resources from beyond the walls."

Will remembered Percy and Annabeth; they were Olympus' most revered power duo, capable of any military expedition. 

They'd taken the assessment last year and, according to the survivors from that group, they'd died together, clasped in an embrace as they were eaten by a hoard. It was a terrible loss for all, especially Percy's father; they were the best fighters they had... and they didn't survive.

"You will honour them by returning home safely. You will not tarnish their name by making this another hopeless supply run. These medicines are necessary for the survival of our people; do not fail us."

An officer, Hephaestus, moved forward holding a television screen. A video frizzed onto the screen, flaring up with static. It was the distorted image of a gruesome zombie wandering about near some sort of warehouse.

"But first, a word of caution," Zeus warned, indicating the screen. "Corpses look human; they are not. They do not think, they do not bleed. They don't communicate. They are dead. Whether they were your mother or your best friend, they are beyond your help. 

They are uncaring, unfeeling, incapable of remorse, and..." he pointed at the screen. The zombie had spotted the cameraman and, its limbs turning languid, suddenly ran towards the camera at immense speed, knocking it to the ground. "They will not hesitate to kill you."

Will shivered. He couldn't do this... he didn't want to do this; if they went outside the walls, a place where  _ those _ things waited, they would die.

The screen turned off and Zeus straightened up.

"Your assessment will begin once you leave Olympus. Now, be on your way and..." he saluted. "And may God be with you."

The group saluted back, a fearful silence hovering over them.

They spent a moment to collect their stuff: weapons, supplies, emergency gear. Will stuffed a bum-bag with some food and water and clicked it around his waist. He slung his bow over his shoulder and secured a knife to his side. Just as they were about to leave, Piper flung him a bandana to use as a mask, which he tied around his face.

A team of guards lead them across to the other end of the courtyard, away from the command building. They stopped right at the edge of the wall where the only gate in and out of Olympus rested. A long, straight split ran up the centre of the gate, secured shut with steel locks and bolt mechanisms.

They waited, the guards hurrying about around them. Will kept his eyes front, focused on the giant metal split in the wall. None of them said a word.

There was a crunch. 

Then, the sound of scraping metal rung out across the courtyard; the fortified gates of the first wall pulled open slowly. With a final clunk, the gates halted to a stop, a gaping hole now left in the wall.

This was it... they were leaving. The commanding branch offered one last salute to the group as they shuffled through the gates.

The middle ground, the space between the two walls, was set up like a battleground. Patrol officers and guard dogs circled every inch of space, always on high alert. Whilst the inner wall was a sturdy barricade, the outer wall wasn't as impenetrable; there were, on occasion, break-ins, hence the heavy military presence.

They trudged through the field of dirt and sand to make it to the second set of gates. To Will's surprise, embedded into one side of the concrete was a large window. It seemed thick, like bulletproof glass, and there were a selection of soldiers peering through it.

As the approached, the guard soldiers stepped back. "You're lucky," one of them huffed. "There aren't any out there right now; you should be good to go."

Will gulped, offering a weak smile. No flesh-eating zombies waiting outside the gate? Lucky them.

Throughout the field, guards called a chorus of 'clear' and then there came another crunch. This door opened manually, unlike the scraping gate of the inner walls, so it was easier to quickly slam shut if anything came at them. A guard swung the door open for them.

There it was... the outside.

He took a step forwards, then another step, and another... and then he was outside the walls. The guards closed and locked the door behind them. The assessment had begun.

They waited for a moment, taking it all in. Before them lay a barren wasteland. 

There was nothing here.

Clarisse, the natural leader of their class, took the first steps forward and Will followed suit. They had to push forward into the unknown; they were on a time limit.

The large city buildings loomed over their heads as they wandered through the streets. Graffiti painted the walls and the surfaces of abandoned cars. Covering the roads was a layer of foliage, moss and weeds poking up through the cracks in the tarmac. 

As they ventured along the main road, Will noticed newspapers strewn about, each one plastered with variations of the words 'world' and 'ending'. He silently thanked that he didn't have to live through that; a pro of being born after the apocalypse was that you already knew what was happening... those people must've been terrified.

They continued walking. Will felt strange.

"It's so... quiet," he noted.

In Olympus, people were everywhere; having the remainder of civilisation crammed into one town meant that you were always close to someone. Military roamed the streets and families ruined around on their daily routines. 

There was nothing here.

With the lucky absence of walkers, the only sounds that could be heard were the soft thuds of their feet as the group travelled through the wasteland.

It was a long journey; they'd already hit the pharmacies and stocks close to the walls of Olympus, so they needed supplies could only be found further from the town.

As they trekked through the streets, Will lost sight of the walls behind him, now so far away they were obscured by buildings. He stuttered, his breath shaky. There was no easy way back now.

Will was starting to wonder if maybe this wasn't such a good idea when Clarisse held out an arm, halting them. Will followed her gaze to a junction between two buildings where a little girl, no older than five or six, was peeking out into the street.

They all froze.

They'd seen pictures. They'd seen videos. They knew the anatomy of zombies inside and out.

Nothing could've prepared them for the real thing.

From a distance, the child might've looked human, but Will could easily see that wasn't the case; its skin was grey and covered in blisters, the veins along its arms a deep purple, and its hair was mangled and sparse. The girl was hobbling along, feet dragging behind it. Its jaw was slack, displaying a set of rotten teeth. Its dress, perhaps baby blue once, was stained red.

Will wanted to cry.

It looked so lost, just a little girl; its face was vacant and there was no light behind its glassy eyes. In his dazed state, Will hadn't even thought to draw his bow. Thankfully for him, Clarisse was prepared. She took the crossbow from Leo and aimed it at the girl.

It was then that the child looked up at the group, sniffing around, noticing that someone was there. For a moment, it stared at them, seemingly harmless.

Then, without warning, it broke into an astonishing run, faster than anything Will expected, headed straight from them. He stifled a scream. The girl had hardly made it halfway to them when an arrow pierced its skull and it dropped to the ground.

They all stood in silence.

"Ah," hummed Leo. "Right."

"Yeah," breathed Frank.

"That... wasn't so bad," Piper offered, doubt in her voice.

Will nodded in agreement. 

They kept on walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If I could, I'd offer all my readers a virtual flower to say thank you <3


	3. Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! This is the third chapter I've posted in two days - I just really want to get to the funky parts!! 
> 
> I hope you like where this is going; if you have any recommendations or improvements you'd like to offer, please let me know! Thank you!! <3

Will was exhausted; they'd been travelling for hours.

The journey had been relatively quiet after they'd left the inner city, but they didn't dare stop; they had to make it home by nightfall, or else they'd be stuck in the dark.

He knew the maps inside and out, so he recognised that they were close. Still, it didn't make the walk any less tiring.

"Okay, that's the crossroads," Piper mumbled, pointing to the junction on the right. "As soon as we hit the roundabout, it's on our left."

They'd travelled so far without a chance to rest, so those words sent a sudden spark of relief through Will. The sooner they got there, the sooner they could go home.

"Ah, come on, amigos," Leo grunted, picking up the pace. "Let's hurry up already; it's so close and my feet are tired." To prove his point, his hopped about on his toes as if he were walking on hot coals.

"Focus, Valdez," snapped Clarisse in a hushed voice. "I know it's exciting, believe me, but we are out in the open. Keep your voice down!"

Frank nodded, lips pursed. "Yeah, don't celebrate too early. It might be full of... of..." he coughed.

Will twitched and clutched his bow ever so slightly closer to him.

There was this one thought that kept nagging at the back of his mind. 

Sure, he wasn't complaining, but wasn't the outside world meant to be... more? He'd heard stories of hoards around every corner. Aside from a few they'd picked off a while back, the group hadn't encountered anything remotely dangerous.

Of course, the nagging voice reminded him that this meant the worst was yet to come.

"Look, there!" Frank called out. Will looked up to see a structure in the road, one of these 'roundabout' things. They didn't have cars in Olympus, so Will had never actually seen a roundabout before. It was bigger than he expected.

Frank was pointing over to a building on the far left. Like most of the other buildings here, it was worn from neglect, but there was a distinctive sign hanging over the entrance: a faded green cross.

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong," Leo smirked. "But I think that's our pharmacy."

Will rolled his eyes and surged towards the concrete building.

First, they surveyed their surroundings; no use getting in the building if there was a hoard waiting for them when they got out. Thankfully, there were only one or two in the area, easily picked off by Frank and Will.

Piper went in first, knocking as she went. They'd been trained to quietly knock on doors before entering a room; walkers tended to groan if they heard a noise, signalling that the room was otherwise occupied. Once, she'd done a basic sweep of the ground floor, she gave them the 'all clear'.

Now came the scary part. Being outside where there were plenty of places to run and hide was one thing. Being trapped in a building with nowhere to go if you got stuck... that was harder to handle.

Will could feel his shoulders shaking as they crept up the stairs to the first floor, constantly looking behind him for unwanted visitors. After checking and double-checking that this floor was safe too, the group moved on to find the pharmacy's stock.

At the end of the hall, they pushed through a door labelled 'Storage', hoping it'd contain what they were looking for. It lead into a large room filled with cupboards, counters, and, thankfully, medicines.

After sharing a quick smile, the group spread out across the room to locate their supplies. Will helped himself to large amounts of vitamins, painkillers, antibiotics, and surgical equipment. This place had everything he could've hoped for.

"Hey, guys," Leo grinned. "Check it out: vitamin gummies!" He laughed, opening a tub and popping a few in his mouth. "Man! These things are good."

Will rolled his eyes. Typical Leo.

He opened up a few cupboards, some of them empty, to see if he could find any ferrous fumarate; many of the Olympus people had severe iron deficiency. He scoured the cupboards but found no such drug.

Perhaps he should check the overhead compartments too; it wasn't likely, but they could keep some iron tablets up there.

_Thump._

Will froze. He thought he heard... it was probably nothing. They'd seen some birds flying outside the window; it was just the birds.

"Hey, Will," Clarisse called. "What's colecalciferol? It's the only thing I can find with magnesium stearate."

He stuffed the remainder of his supplies in his bum-bag, racking his brain for the medicine. Will scratched the back of his neck, moving closer to see the bottle. "Uh, it's Vitamin D3, I believe. Put it in the bag, just to be -"

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

A shiver ran down Will's spine, making him freeze once more.

This time, there was no mistaking it; he heard movement from outside. Definitely not the birds.

Frank trembled. "Did you guys -"

"Shh!" Clarisse hushed him, reaching for her gun. The group carefully drew their weapons, aiming for the entrance, before holding still, listening for any more noise.

Will hadn't realised he'd been holding his breath. That sickening feeling, that nagging voice, was swirling through his stomach. The noise was close; if there were any in the building, the group wouldn't be able to escape without being smelt. 

"Okay," Piper breathed, barely making a sound. "If we need to get out, go for the windows. It's a two-story drop, but you'll live."

Leo, his usual quirky smile gone, nodded. "Uh-huh," he swallowed, his voice equally silent.

Will wanted to cry, but he held his composure. He knocked an arrow and pulled back, eyes trained on the door. From behind the faded glass, he thought he saw a flicker of movement.

"Everyone get to the windows," he whispered. "Now."

_BANG!_

The storage room door burst open and through it charged a swarm of four, eight, fifteen... _too many_ rampaging zombies.

It all happened so quickly, Will felt like he was in a trance.

They ran towards the building windows, knowing their only options were to escape or die. There were gunshots, screaming and yelling, mingled in with the sickening snarls of the hoard. They moved impossibly fast, scrambling over the counters to reach them, and Will barely managed to hit any with his arrows.

He yelled as he was tackled to the ground, a writhing, bloodthirsty monster holding him down. He fought it off, pushing away at his immense strength. Suddenly, an arrow pierced through the creature's head, ceasing its attack on Will. 

The blond boy gasped, looking up; Frank was backed into a corner, away from the others, firing as many arrows as he could, but there were too many around him.

Another loud crash behind him made Will scramble away to fire arrows of his own, narrowly avoiding the reaching hands of a walker. 

Ducking behind a lab bench, he swivelled around to see Clarisse boosting Piper up through an opening in a top window; the girl screamed as she fell through the air and out of the building. At least she'd live.

Clarisse herself was in the process of being swarmed by the monsters, each one flailing limbs trying to grab her. Will tried to shoot some down, but let out a scream of his own as a zombie came flying over his head past the lab bench. Pulling out his knife, Will kicked and stabbed the monster in the head as it lunged for him.

He heard cries of pain ring out to his right and... oh, _Gods_. Seven or eight zombies were tearing into a chunk of bloody flesh that, Will realised with horror, was the shaking form of Frank. Will stifled a scream and ran past another row of counters.

There was nowhere for him to go; the window exit was blocked by the ravaging monsters who were currently trying to eat Clarisse as she made an escape attempt. He couldn't run right to circle to the other windows, because of the group currently eviscerating... eviscerating Frank. He could try and leave through the door but...

He peered out over the counters towards the door to see a scrawny Hispanic boy fighting in front of it. Leo Valdez was trying to fend off a zombie on each side; he was doing well, slicing the arm off one with his knife... until a third zombie crawled out from under a nearby desk and jumped him from behind.

Will dropped back to the floor, hands over his mouth. He couldn't watch, he could only sit and listen to the agonising screams of "No, please! Stop! Help me!".

There was nowhere he could go. His eyes flicked around; they landed on an open cupboard across from him. He darted towards it, curling himself up and slotting away into the unit.

He couldn't breathe. He was going to die.

From his spot, he could see the window; Clarisse, at last, pushed herself through, falling to the ground below. They got out. They got out.

He wanted to be sick. There was nowhere to go. He could hear the noises of the zombies as they sniffed around, dispersing to the spots where Leo and Frank lay. They swarmed around their bodies like flies.

He was going to die. He didn't want to die.

He heard the scrapping, the shuffling, the _chewing_ , as the monsters devoured his friends just around the corner. His eyes fixed on the window Piper and Clarisse had jumped out of; of the swarm, two zombies had remained right in front of it.

If he was going to survive, he needed to get to that window.

His bow... he needed his bow. It lay on the floor two metres from his hiding spot; he doubted he could reach it without being seen, but he needed it. He could pick off the window walkers silently, then make a break for it.

He held his breath, trying not to make a sound, as he slowly reached out from under the counter. If he could just grab it... his fingertips itched towards the bow, brushing against the wood.

There was a groan beside him.

Will froze, his arm still outstretched. Letting out a shaky gasp, he turned his head to see one of them at the end of the row, barely a foot from him. It was staring, eyes directly trained on him; he'd been seen.

This was it; he was going to die.

He waited...

The creature, suddenly and without warning, lunged for Will, making him cry out and back up underneath the counter once more. The zombie, its movements inhumanly quick, threw itsself onto Will, grabbing him by the shoulders. Will tried to retreat, but there was nowhere to go.

He was cornered, about to be eaten alive.

He should've been brave; he knew there was no way of escaping this. He should be brave and fight it off as long as he could.

Will burst into tears.

He closed his eyes, hot splashes pouring out, and choked out silent sobs. He cowered away as far as he could from the monster, hands up in defence. He was terrified.

He didn't want the pain. He didn't want to die.

He sat there, willing his last thoughts to be of his family rather than the unbearable fear of death, waiting for the clawing or the tearing or the biting to begin.

He waited... but it never came.

The hands were still on him, the creature disgustingly close, but there was no attack.

Slowly, Will cracked his stinging eyes open to reluctantly look at the thing. He tried not to gag. It was gruesome; bloodshot eyes and pale grey skin, blisters and purple veins, the red blood of Will's friends oozing from his mouth. 

The smell was the worst part of it all: undeniably dead.

The zombie was sitting over Will, hands clenched around his arms, but its face looked... Will wasn't sure. It seemed to be staring at Will in... confusion? Anger? Curiosity?

The thing leant in, making Will flinch back with a whimper, and took one long, heavy sniff. It was smelling him. Will wanted to vomit; he knew what he'd smell like to the creature. Food.

Another sniff, then one more, and the zombie leant back. Still holding Will painfully tight, the zombie swirled its head, eyes flitting around the room at the other walkers. Will couldn't see them from under the counter, but he knew they were there. They'd be sniffing him out too.

He felt one hand release his shoulder, much to Will's confusion. He was too terrified to move, he could only stare in both astonishment and horror at the monster sitting over him.

The zombie reached down to its own stomach and, with twitching fingers, lifted up its shirt. This time, Will couldn't help but gag; across the side of the zombie's waist, there was a gaping hole, trickling a murky brown fluid. It was a shotgun wound, no doubt put there by Clarisse. 

The zombie stuck its hand in it.

Will began to cry harder; he was at least somewhat prepared for death, the pain of being torn to pieces. He hadn't expected anything less. Whatever this was... it was somehow so much worse and way scarier.

Its grey hand now covered in brown goo, it lifted its fingers to Will's face. The blond gasped and tried to writhe out of its grasp; he had cuts and scrapes from trying to hide and his bandana mask was gone, lost in the fight... if any of that goo got in his system, he'd become one of them.

As the zombie inched closer, fingers outstretched, Will held his breath.

He felt cold, clammy fingertips draw down his face, coating his cheek in the disgusting zombie-juice. The zombie did it again and again, drawing its fingers down Will's face and hair and clothes, occasionally dipping its hand back into its wound for more goo.

Will kept his eyes fixed on the creature in terror.

After a few seconds that felt too much like hours, the zombie stopped touching Will. It leant forward once more and took little sniffs, taking Will's scent in. Once it seemed... _satisfied_ , it let its grip on his arms loosen, sitting back. For a moment, they stared at each other. 

Will didn't know what to do; they didn't train him for this in school. He was scared to move, afraid anything he did wrong would turn him into a meal. Instead, he just stared at the thing, it staring back.

Suddenly, Will heard a chorus of loud moans ring around the room and remembered the danger he was in; his screams must've drawn attention from the others. He turned his head down the row of counters to see the two window zombies shuffling past. 

Abruptly, they stopped at the end of the counter, sniffing around with wild expressions. Will knew there was no way they wouldn't smell him; humans were like a scented beacon within close range. One of the pair even looked directly at him, making Will's shoulders stiffen.

The two let out another moan and continued to scuffle down through the pharmacy, away from where Will was hiding.

He swallowed thickly, looking back to the strange zombie. Will brought a trembling hand up to brush against his now coated cheek; the zombie... the goo on his face... it meant the others didn't smell him. 

Had this zombie... done that on purpose? The other zombies didn't go nuts at his human scent; it must've done something. If this... this thing... it'd saved him from getting eaten.

Will didn't understand what was happening.

Will flinched as the corpse let out a hissing sound. He was more than ready to cower back further under the counter when the zombie moved again. Slowly, unsteadily, it brought its fingers up once more, but this time to its own face.

It hovered its index finger over its bloody mouth and let out another hissing sound. Except... it wasn't hissing. Will could hear it now.

"Sssshhhh," it breathed, spitting flecks of blood as it did so.

The zombie was telling him to be quiet. It was shushing him.

If Will hadn't been about to wet himself with fear, he'd be fascinated; this was... this was communication... with a dead thing. It wasn't possible.

Slowly, the zombie stood up, limps slumping as he did so. It looked down, waiting for Will. He had to get up. He had to get up. The blond boy didn't want to move, too frozen in shock, but forced his body to slowly pull itself to its feet. 

He cautiously popped his head up past the counter, getting to see the aftermath of the carnage.

He let out a soft whimper; along with the mutilated remains of Frank and Leo, the pharmacy was riddled with other zombies, now all shuffling towards the door. A few of them sniffed in his direction, but thankfully ignored whatever smell they picked up on.

Will turned his weeping eyes to the walker, who was now trudging along in the direction of the door. It kept turning around, glassy eyes fixating on Will as if it were making sure he was still following close behind.

It wasn't like Will had any other choice; this freaky monster obviously had some sort of plan to take him away and eat him in private, but one wrong move and Will was sure it'd devour him then and there.

Will could barely breathe as he followed the zombie through the hoard in the pharmacy and out of the door. He was crying still, trying so hard to keep it silent. To be honest, he wasn't 100% sure he _wasn't_ dead; maybe this was some sort of after-death hell.

It was too much for him to take. He was going to be sick. He was going to pass out. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe.

In a state of pure terror, he followed the zombie that saved his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder who this strange zombie is... hmm... it's such a mystery... ;)
> 
> I loved writing this! If you noticed any spelling mistakes, please let me know (I did write this quite hastily!)  
> Thank you all for reading!! :D


	4. Survivors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short interlude from Clarisse's POV - how the survivors got back to Olympus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! Upon suggestion, I wrote this to show how the survivors made it back to Olympus - it's only a short interluding chapter, but I hope you enjoy all the same <3
> 
> Thank you for reading!!

"Come on, beauty queen... almost there..."

"Almost there..."

"Yeah, almost there..."

Clarisse hauled Piper up further onto her shoulder and continued to limp down the street.

The night was falling fast around them; they didn't have a lot of time, but Clarisse was staggering as quickly as she could. After being thrown from the pharmacy window, Piper had landed on her legs, shattering both of them. She couldn't stand and, with so much danger around them, the pair couldn't afford to stop and make splints.

Thankfully, Clarisse had only sprained her ankle in the fall, so she was able to scoop up the trembling form of Piper and haul them away from the building. As they left, they could hear the screams and cries of their friends inside. Frank... Leo... Will...

Piper kept one eye on the building as they hobbled away, but no survivors came tumbling from the window. The screaming ceased just as they reached the main road and they shared a look; their friends were dead.

There was no time to mourn. The hoard they'd encountered wouldn't stay in the building for long; if they were smelt, they'd have no chance of surviving. Clarisse grunted as she pushed forward as fast as her injured leg would allow in the direction of the walls.

In the daylight, it was easy to spot walkers approaching. Piper armed herself with the crossbow and, held in Clarisse's arms, started to pick off the corpses that spotted them. 

There were more than there were earlier in the day; it seemed as though every corner had a zombie waiting behind it, ready to lunge for them. It was arduous, but they ploughed onwards without resting.

Things got tricky once they started losing light.

"Clarisse... it's not safe," Piper whimpered, realising soon enough that she could no longer spot zombies from far away.

"What else do you suggest we do?" she snapped. The weight of Piper plus the unimaginable pain she was in was slowly breaking the girl down. They only had one more stretch of road to overcome, then they'd reach the wall. Clarisse could see the gate just ahead of them; they couldn't give up now.

In the silence of the night, you could only hear the shuffling of Clarisse's boats against the dirt and tarmac and the hum of the wind whipping past the buildings.. until the humming morphed into groaning.

They froze. It wasn't the wind spreading between the concrete towers; around them, they could see flickers of movement in the darkness.  
With a burst of adrenaline, something Clarisse had been training all these years to do, she ran for her life.

Through the growing cries of walkers around them, their stumbling footsteps as they broke into inhuman charges, Clarisse heard Piper begging.

"Leave me! Leave me! You'll never make it... we'll both die!"

Clarisse let out a battle cry. "Not today, princess!"

The gate grew closer and closer and, even though she had the extra weight of Piper, Clarisse sprinted away from the zombies that were hot on their tails. There was no use trying to fight them off, there were too many; their only option was to get to that gate.

"Open the gate!" she screamed into the night. They had to let them in.  
The gate didn't open.

They had to let them in... 

"Open the gate! Open!"

They were closing in now, the gate barely a kilometre away.  
With the snarling right behind her, Clarisse felt cold. Perhaps they wouldn't let them in... if they just left them to die...

Suddenly, a crunch rang out across the street and lights burst on in the distance; the gate was open. That was all the incentive she needed; Clarisse had to get at least someone home.

She ran and ran, feeling the rotten fingers of walkers brush up against her back as they tried to grab her. She could hear gunshots echoing, followed by the screeches and thumps of zombies hitting the ground. They were so close... so close... they were...

Clarisse threw herself forwards, launching Piper off her back, as the reached the gate. There was a slam, and the sound of firearms, a chorus of banging, and...

They'd made it.

She let her head drop down onto the dusty ground, waves of exhaustion striking her. Everything after that was a bit blurry; she was slipping in and out of consciousness.

A round of guards came and shovelled them up. The first thing they did, much to her annoyance, was completely strip her down, guns pointed at her head. They were checking for bites. Thankfully, Clarisse only had her ankle to worry about; no one would be shooting her in the head today, no sir.

The second thing she remembers is the meeting with Zeus. They'd taken the girls through the inner wall and to the command base. Piper, unlike Clarisse, had passed out cold the moment they stopped running. The medics had dealt with her legs, but she was shivering violently. 

They weren't initially met with concern from the head commander; his first question was something about medical supplies and if the mission was successful. It was only after Clarisse told him about the attack that he relented.

Zeus offered his apologies and walked out. Hatred coursed through her.  
The third thing Clarisse was conscious enough to recall was, unfortunately, the families. She and Piper had rested, ate, and showered, but it wasn't enough to hide the guilt.

Frank's grandmother was the easiest. She was a lovely old woman, but she knew how to handle herself; when Clarisse told her that her grandson hadn't made it out alive, she simply nodded and walked away.

Leo's mother had died a long time ago, but his father was one of the commanding officers of Olympus. Hephaestus asked the girls why it was they who survived and not his son; he made it clear that the wrong people returned from this mission. Clarisse remembered the screams she could hear emanating from the pharmacy as they ran away like cowards. She agreed with him.

The hardest to tell by far were the Solaces.

"Where is my son?" Apollo came bursting in through the door, pushing aside guards and officers. He pleaded with Piper and Clarisse to tell them where his son was.

"Will? Will! Where is Will; I need to see him." Naomi Solace came shortly after, her face pale and cold like stone. She collapsed at their feet and cried, screaming for her little boy.

"What happened? What happened?" His siblings followed his mother. The two of them didn't understand why their brother was not in the returning party. It was difficult for Clarisse to explain what had happened to Will.

She could still see his face, that ridiculous smile he always plastered across it. He was rotting away in an abandoned pharmacy right now.

She'd been expecting pride. They had graduated, they were soldiers now. It was something to be proud of. All she felt was fear and guilt and loss.

For the first time in years, she let herself cry.


	5. Investigating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but this time from the POV of our favourite dead boy <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! This was suggested in the comments and I lovedddd writing this! The language and writing style isn't what I'm used to (it's a lot more simple than what I normally use), but I really wanted to reflect the speed at which his brain is working at. 
> 
> I'm planning on writing another chapter from his POV, so let me know what elements I could improve!!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading :D

It took him a very long time to realise that he was different from the others.

In the beginning, sure, he was relatively 'normal', by their standards anyway. They looked the same, smelt the same, ate the same, walk the same. 

Walk? No, it was more of a shuffle. He would shuffle around the same route over and over and over instinctually. It was just methodical. Like a circuit. 

He did that for a very long time, shuffling down the same roads, over and over and over.

Things didn't change much back then. 

Occasionally, he'd hear a funny noise and venture off his usual path to go and investigate. He liked investigating. Sometimes it was a bird or a deer. Sometimes it was another person like him. Sometimes... it was something that smelled nice, something he'd want to eat. He liked those things.

Whatever the case, he'd go and have a look, then return to his little circuit and the cycle would begin again.

He'd pass the same roads, the same streets... over and over and over.

He did this for a long time without question. Years and years and years... he didn't know how long exactly; it all kind of blurred together, but he knew it was a ridiculously long time to keep walking.

Everything was so boring. 

With so much time on his hands, it was only natural that he started to think a lot, just to curb the boredom a little. It was novel, unfamiliar... they didn't do thinking.

At first, he thought about himself, but he didn't get very far with that. He knew his name... he thought he knew his name. He wasn't sure. He didn't know anything else.

He made an attempt at remembering things. He knew there were things he had to remember. He didn't have any luck with that one either.

After another long time of wandering and thinking, things started to get boring again. So, he started to look at where he was; he had passed the same roads, the same streets, the same buildings, countless times... but he'd never _looked_.

Where was he?

Somewhere, probably.

On his little circuit, there were houses and buildings and things. Lots of things. Different things that you could look at. There were bits of... grass, bits of dirt. Everything seemed so interesting... but looking at so much all at once made his head feel funny.

He felt less funny when he looked up. 'Up' looked nice, looked pretty. The sky. It was so calming and so big and so pretty. He liked the sky.

He kept on shuffling. 

He didn't think that it was strange that he was doing thinking and looking. Thinking and looking were perfectly reasonable things to do, even if he wasn't very good at them. They felt odd, sure, but he hadn't done anything besides shuffle in years and years; odd was to be expected.

It wasn't the looking and thinking that made him realise he was... different. It was the changing. 

See, there was a road that he walked on every so often. He could see that there were a few shops down one branch in the road. They looked interesting and he wanted to go and investigate. He liked investigating. He wanted to turn down that road, but his circuit didn't take him that way.

Why didn't his circuit take him that way?

It was _his_ circuit. Surely he could change it if he wanted to.

So he did.

Next time that branch in the road came around in his cycle, he didn't keep going forward like he usually would. He turned and followed the other road. It felt a little funny... it felt _really_ funny, but he wanted to see what was down there. He liked investigating.

It was a very nice road and he was glad he went to visit it.

There was lots of grass and dirt and... and tall plants... trees. There were lots of trees and things in the road, like cars. There were big shops and little shops, a shop with clothes and a shop with... he didn't know the word for this one.

It was a small shop, a little shop. It was painted a nice colour, although he couldn't remember which colour it was. It was the same colour as the sky, all calm and nice and pretty. Beautiful. He liked this colour, therefore he liked this shop.

There were tables and chairs through the window and words written on a sign outside. He couldn't read anymore.

Could he go in the shop?

He didn't see any reason why he couldn't.

Hobbling, scuffling, he went in to investigate because he liked investigating.

He liked this shop. There were tables and chairs and boards with words on them and cups and plates and things. He really liked things.

He went over to one of the chairs at one of the tables and sat down to think. Lots of thinking, lots of looking around...

And that, _that_ was when he realised he was just a little bit different from the others.

The others didn't do thinking and the others didn't really do looking either, but he knew, he knew for certain that the others did not do _different_. They didn't do changing.

They kept the same routine over and over and over again just as he had all these years. Never, not once, did anyone ever change. Yet... here he was sitting in a chair in a shop on a road he'd never been down.

That was different...

He was different...

He concluded that he liked different. Different was much less boring.

From that point on, he decided he could do what he wanted to do. This was a foolproof plan... except he really didn't know what it was he wanted to do. He'd never done this before. 

He sat in the chair for a bit, but then that got boring. He went outside, which was nice, but then he still didn't know what to do.

He was starting to get a little upset about the lack of things to do, when he spotted something on the ground, something to investigate. It was shiny, all pretty and sparkly. There was a word for it... but he couldn't remember. Wrist? Something... pretty nice thing.

Because he'd done such good investigating of the pretty nice thing, he thought it only right to take it back to the shop to keep.

When he put it on the table next to the chair he'd sat at, he realised he liked this. It was nice to see something on the table and it was even nicer to know that that thing was _his_.

He promptly left the shop to go and find more things to keep. Things to collect. He liked collecting almost as much as he liked investigating.

That was how he'd spent his days since then; he'd go out and pick his own roads, travelling wherever he liked to find things he could pick up and collect. It made him feel all nice, much less bored.

It was funny to watch the others wander about; they weren't different like he was. Sometimes, he'd get in their way whilst they were shuffling around their circuit, just to see what they'd do. 

Mostly, they'd stop and wait for him to get out of the way, but there's this one person that passes by his shop twice a week who liked to hit him whenever he interrupted his circuit. 

He liked this one; they were friends.

There was something he liked to do whenever his friend passed. He found that if he opened his mouth and gargled a bit, his friend would turn and look at him. It was fun. It reminded him of talking. He didn't do talking anymore, but he'd like to give it a go sometime.

Was he different? Yes. 

Was that bad? No.

He liked going out each day to find a different place and collect things for his shop; he did this every day for a few more years and years, never once getting bored like he used to. 

Different was simply different, not bad. Much less boring.

Besides... he was only a _little_ bit different. He was still the same as everyone else. He still looked the same, smelled the same, walked the same, ate the same.

Still the same...

He had gone walking that morning, moving far away from his shop; he'd collected a lot of things close to the shop, so now he needed to go to very different places to find new pretty nice things for himself.

The city was a big place that didn't look as lovely as his small street, but it did have some cool things he could pick up. Today, for example, he spotted a brightly coloured object on the ground and went to investigate. It was a... a blower, a... a blower on a string that you blow on to make a sound. 

He liked this thing, so it was his. He collected it... he liked collecting. 

Turning around, he headed down another street to look for other stuff. There were some other people there, but they didn't pay him any attention. He kept on looking for things.

Then... he heard a noise. He loved noises; noises meant investigating and he liked investigating. 

The other people heard it too. This was fun... group investigating.

It seemed to be coming from very far away...

"Let's hurry up already; it's so close and my feet are tired."

What a strange noise... he really wanted to see what it was. Together with his new group that he'd found all by himself, he started shuffling slowly towards the noise. He wasn't very fast, but hopefully, the noise wouldn't leave by the time he got there.

They travelled down the street, past some tall buildings, and through an alleyway before they reached a big open space.

Did the noise come from here? He wasn't sure. There was a big circle in the middle of the road. Did circles make sound? He wasn't sure.

He looked up, past the circle. 

There was a smaller building across the road. There was something going through the door. A something... a different something. The kind of something that makes his tummy feel achy.

Soon enough, the something disappeared through the door of the smaller building. He didn't want it to leave... it was interesting. He wanted to see where it was going. He wanted to investigate.

He liked investigating.


	6. Collecting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV of Nico again - how Nico decides not to eat Will <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! I'm so excited for the chapters coming after this! The interactions between the pair are so much fun to write! Stick around!!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Some of your suggestions have been incredible and I am definitely using them in my writing; please don't hesitate to leave me some comments!
> 
> You're all wonderful <3
> 
> (Again, the simple language is intentional; it makes me really uncomfortable to write something so bland, but I'm playing with the idea of having Nico's brain develop as we go along xxx)

As he crossed the wide, open space with his new group, he grew ever more interested; he wanted to follow the something, the different something, to see where it was going. It was like a game. A fun game.

They couldn't walk very fast, he and the others, so arriving at the door was very exciting, drawing a groan from his mouth. It took them longer than anticipated to open it; it wasn't a 'push' kind of door like his shop, it was a pull kind of door and they needed a little extra finger movement. 

After a bit of clawing and scratching, they managed to prise it open with a _thump_.

He didn't even bother checking around downstairs; there was a peculiar smell coming from above, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Investigating made him feel all nice inside, so he shuffled extra hard when they started climbing the stairs one by one.

 _Thump, thump, thump_. Up they went.

There was a door to their right with words written across that he couldn't read. He wondered what was in there. It was probably really, really interesting.

The other people moved right up to the door, so he followed suit, curious. He paused and took one, long, big sniff.

Well, that smelled nice.

_BANG!_

It was as though his limbs loosened all at once, his absentminded shuffling turning into a desperate run. His head swirled and his thoughts scattered. They shot through the door towards the things inside that smelled oh-so-good.

Something hit him in his side; he looked up to see one of the things pointing at him, yelling. It was making a lot of loud noises that he didn't like, so he snarled back at it with hunger in his eyes. 

Some of his investigating group sprinted off one way, some charged the other. As for him, he stayed near the door; there was a something right here that he wanted to sink his teeth into.

It had a sharp thing, a knife, the something did. It kept flailing it at him. He didn't like that. As it chopped the arm of the guy opposite him, someone else came to their aid. Together, they tore and ripped and savoured the very yummy something.

He could hear it screaming, but he didn't care; it was so wonderful. Each bite was like all his boredom and numbness was being wiped away, the taste blissful and beautiful in his mouth. 

He was so hungry - they were always hungry - but this feeling seemed to sate his swelling hunger ever so slightly. They chewed and chewed, more people joining them by the second. It was incredible.

As he munched, he wondered what happened to the other somethings that smelled nice. He knew some more of them went near the window. 

He stood up, blood and tissue dribbling from his chin; he wanted to see what happened to them, the other things. Maybe there were some left for him to taste... he left the very yummy something on the ground with the others and wandered towards the window.

However, as he was stumbling over, he saw something out of the corner of his eye... something to investigate.

He turned past a row of boxes, cupboards, to see another nice smelling thing poking out from under a counter. It smelled... amazing. So nice, something he wanted to chew on.

Just to let it know how good it smelled and how much fun he was going to have eating it, he let out a groan.

The thing froze and looked at him. There was something about it, something off, but, frankly, he didn't want to wait to find out what.

He wanted to eat him now. 

He threw himself forward, his limbs loose and languid, and grabbed hold of the thing. It cried out and tried to pull away from him, but he held it close. He wanted to eat it. He wanted it now. As it whimpered backwards, it blinked a few times.

That was when he saw it.

Pretty... so pretty... it was like everything slowed down just a little bit and his head stopped swirling, his thoughts becoming focused.

The thing... it wasn't really a 'thing' now that he looked at it... it was more like an odd-looking person. A boy. Like him. The boy that he was holding tightly... he had the colour in his face. _The_ colour.

The colour he couldn't quite name. The colour that was like the sky, the big and bright and open and calm sky. It was like his shop, the place he liked to be and liked to put his collections, his home.

That colour. That nice, bright, pretty colour... _his_ colour... it was in his face, his eyes...

It was beautiful.

He'd been looking ever so closely at the brightness in the boy's face, that he didn't notice that it... him... he... he was crying. He knew that crying meant sad and the boy closed his eyes when he cried. That took away the colour; he didn't like the crying.

He held on to him as he waited for the colour to come back. 

The boy smelled amazing... so, so good; he wanted to eat him, but he'd rather see the colour again. He wanted the colour, pretty colour, to come back and, sure enough, it did. 

The boy looked at him again, very slowly.

It was so wonderful to look at the colour, but it was confusing too. He didn't really know what to do; this boy was a 'something that smelled nice', a 'something he'd like to eat'. They ate these things... he was yummy.

Yet, he _didn't_ want to eat him. He much preferred watching the colour swim about as the boy's eyes flicked over his face. It was so pretty. A pretty nice thing...

Something he could collect.

He pondered the thought. Could he collect this?

He was sure no one had ever collected something quite like this before... but he really, really didn't want the colour to go away. He liked it so much.

He wanted to keep it for himself.

Leaning in, he took a long sniff; the scent made his head swirl like crazy... it was intoxicating, but, as he sniffed some more, he realised that he smelled a little too much. Too big of a smell. Everyone else here would want to smell him too... and he wanted him for himself.

He looked around at the other people in the room; they were eating and chewing, much as he _should_ be, but they hadn't sniffed out the boy yet. He had to make him not smell as good, to smell more like everyone else, to smell more like... more like him.

He thought about the loud sounds from earlier that had made his abdomen feel strange. He reached down and lifted up his T-shirt. The boy made a choked sound; there was a big hole where part of his tummy should be and lots of slimy stuff was coming out.

He had to make him smell not so delicious.

He scooped up a handful of the sticky stuff coming out of him and tried to put on the other boy's face, but he squirmed away from him. He needed to stop moving. He tried to hold his face still as he drew the slime down his cheek. 

It was nice, his face, pretty to look at; he made sure he didn't touch the pretty colour in the middle.

There was a word for this that begins with a 'p'... he can't remember. Drawing with goo. It was fun.

After he'd covered his face, his hair, his clothes with his own slimy stuff, he leant back in to smell him: significantly less intoxicating. Perfect.

He sat back to look at the other boy. His face was very nice... he liked the colour of... the colour in his eyes. He was glad he was taking this boy home... he could stare at him longer that way.

A few people came to investigate, just as he had; they sniffed around where the two were sitting, but they simply moved on. When he turned back to look at the boy, his hand was resting on his cheek and his pretty eyes were very, very big.

The others hadn't smelt him. Perfect. That made him happy.

Now that he knew his boy would be safe around the other people, it was time for them to leave. He was about to get up when he realised... did this boy know what was happening? Did he know how to be safe?

What if he made a noise? He and the others didn't tend to make noise, so anything like that could get him noticed. He wouldn't be safe... his boy... how could he... 

He could tell him. He wasn't very good at the whole 'talking' thing, but he could try something. Anything. A simple 'please be quiet' would do; that wasn't too hard.

When he opened his mouth and tried to form words, it came out as a harsh hissing sound, much unlike the noise he wanted to make.

It didn't seem to get the message across.

Panicking slightly for his new pretty nice thing, he brought one of his fingers up to his face... at least, he tried, but his motor movements were most definitely sub-par. It meant quiet, the fingers... he knew that. Quiet.

When he let out a second hissing noise - "Sssshhhh..." - he was sure it made a lot more sense.

Yay. Go him. He knew he'd be great at talking.

He moved to stand up, although, now that the boy was covered in goo that masked his lovely smell, his limbs were back to their usual sluggishness. Checking over his shoulder to make sure his new pretty nice thing was following him, he started to shuffle towards the exit.

There was something... exciting about this; he'd never collected something quite this interesting before. The colour... such a lovely colour; he was going to enjoy spending a few days looking at it.

As they left the building, unfortunately accompanied by the other people wanting to get back to their circuits, he started to do some thinking.

This was... this was different.

This was very different. 

More different than thinking. More different than looking. Even more different than changing.

He'd been holding on to the fact that he was the same; he looked the same, he walked the same... but now? The boy was something he'd want to eat... but he didn't. That made him different.

That made him different... in a bad way. He wasn't sure he liked it. It made his head feel not very nice.

Why would he do that? Why would he not eat the boy? It was a bad strange, something he could easily fix, it's just...

His eyes were a really, _really_ pretty colour; he'd rather just collect him.

He liked collecting.


	7. Taken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello!! Firstly, I'M SO SORRY! It has literally been two week since I've posted anything - I'm sorry for leaving you all hanging like that! I was away on a camping trip (where I had little to no internet) and I really didn't plan my writing/posting times well... again, SORRY! Please forgive me <3
> 
> Secondly, yay! Update! I've already set out writing the next few chapters (which are too cute, btw!), so I should be more prompt with posting... should...
> 
> If you notice any mistake, lemme know bc I'm posting this at midnight and I might've missed something in my sleepiness :D
> 
> Thank you for reading! I love you all - thank you for your patience!! Xx <3

The road leading to his inevitable and presumably quite painful death was long and desolate.

He'd followed the zombie, the creature, that... thing, from the pharmacy, regretting each step he took. It wandered with unusual purpose through the city streets, its eyes flicking towards the others that surrounded them.

Will still couldn't comprehend what was happening, his thoughts too clouded with terror; he kept quiet, shuffling along as the creatures did, and appeared to pass as one of their kind. Thanks to the rotten corpse-blood covering his human stench, the zombies were unaware of the imposter in their midst.

For the first few minutes, or perhaps it was hours, they travelled together through the city as a group. It didn't seem intentional, rather coincidental; the creatures didn't move together, they simply happened to each be going in the same direction.

With every alleyway and corner they turned down, another walker branched off from the group, hobbling away mindlessly. It was like their attention suddenly shifted, causing them to deviate off the road and find their own way.

The strange zombie, the one who saved him, continued to scrape onwards and thus, for lack of a better option, Will did the same.

They seemed to walk for hours; Will's feet dragged along in a similar manner to the zombies', tired and heavy, scuffing through the dust and dirt. 

The sun had just begun its descent, tinting the sky with purple swirls amongst the blue. Will could feel exhaustion dripping through him, but he didn't dare stop; he persisted out of fear.

He grimaced as he accidentally breathed in through his nose; he'd been trying not to do so to lessen the effects of the repugnant smell. The stench of the zombies around him, their decaying flesh, mixed with the stink of the intestinal juice on his face and body brought vomit to his mouth.

He'd been suppressing the sobs threatening to breach his throat, only in an attempt to delay his death further. He knew how zombies worked; whatever the outcome of this futile journey, he would wind up dead in the end.

Will couldn't look at the corpses surrounding him; their glassy eyes and grey skin made them look so inhuman, it was painful to think of how they used to be. They seemed so lost. He fixed his eyes on his feet, burning hot tears hazarding to spill down his cheeks.

Briefly, he wondered if the zombie was going to... to _turn_ him; it was a logical explanation for this strange behaviour. Perhaps, that would be a more pleasant end to the day; being turned into a senseless zombie was preferable to having one's brains smashed out and eaten.

It didn't try to interact with him again as it had in the pharmacy. Will still couldn't wrap his head around how it'd been able to do that; the infection works through the brain, shutting down everything but motor functions... communication physically wasn't possible.

Yet, something had happened, something he couldn't explain. Will watched as the dark-haired creature in front of him moved, its head twitching; it seemed to be on edge, as though it were waiting for something to strike out, and it carried itself forward with a tenacity that the other creatures lacked.

It was... different, the zombie, there was no doubting that. Unfortunately for Will, that meant he had no clue what to expect. He could only hope for a painless death.

There were few left in the group now. They'd been travelling for an hour, maybe two, maybe three, and the sky was bleeding orange. He desperately needed to rest lest he succumb to fatigue and pass out. Alas, they continued.

They turned down an alleyway, where one zombie departed. They passed a branch of roads and another one wandered off. The third walker left to head towards a rogue car-park and then...

Then it was just them.

For some unknown reason, Will felt a wash of relief spread through him, but quickly dismissed it; the fact that he was no longer surrounded by multiple undead, flesh-eating monsters did not mean he was safe. He kept forgetting that this one, despite its abnormality, would still eat him if it wanted to.

Will followed the zombie down a series of roads, praying the journey would be quick; the numbness from his terror was slowly starting to lose its touch and his feet were beginning to protest angrily.

Anxiety continued to bubble up inside him. His eyes kept flitting off to survey his surroundings, constantly looking over his shoulder. The buildings were smaller now and much less frequent, fewer places to hide; he was so _exposed_ and, even with the zombie goo, he felt like he was going to be attacked at any moment. 

They passed rows of brick buildings, some with balconies. The cracks in the roads bloomed with weeds, vines and roots spreading out across the pavements. As they walked, he spotted the occasional zombie peeking out from amongst the houses, but nothing paid Will any attention; the corpses just seemed to wander about in confusion.

He turned back to the creature in front of him, stifling a retch. It's colourless skin and purple veins seemed even more grotesque in the light of the sunset, a clear reminder to Will that this thing was beyond dead.

It continued to shuffle along, twitching as it went. For a minute, Will considered making a run for it; he wasn't environed by walkers as before, so there was a chance he could escape if he timed it right.

When the logical side of his brain took over, he brushed the thought away; if he ran, this thing would catch him easily... he'd seen first hand how fast they could move. Besides, he had no idea where he was and had no way of finding his way back to Olympus. 

He couldn't survive out here on his own. He needed help.

It just so happened that this 'help' was ostensibly coming from an insatiable creature that _definitely_ wanted to eat him. Will was still debating whether this zombie was some sort of freak happening that knew how to store its food for winter like a squirrel... trust his luck to encounter such a thing.

They'd been walking down a long, highstreet-style road for a while now; if Will had been exhausted before, he was really in trouble now. He kept tripping over his own feet, even more so than the actual dead guy in front of him.

After yet another mile of slow trudging, the zombie started to veer off to the left down a separate road, but Will's mind barely registered it. 

His feet thoughtlessly dragged him onward down the street, following the zombie's lead as he had been, but, when he looked up, he couldn't help but stumble to a standstill in awe. 

If he had been paying a little more attention to his surroundings throughout the walk, he might not have been so taken aback with the sudden divergence; the tall, concrete buildings of the city had been growing smaller and smaller over the past few hours, and the roads had started to spread out, quieting down. 

They were no longer in the main city, which is why a little, old-fashioned town centre such as the one ahead of him shouldn't seem out of place... perhaps it was the eerie sense of abandonment or the faint echo of what this place used to be that sent a bleak chill down his spine.

As they shuffled through the square, he took in the buildings around him. The road was divided by cobblestone pavements, rows of shops framing the street on either side. Each shop was small and faded, as if they were once vivid and colourful, made of elaborate brickwork and panelling; a picturesque motif ran throughout the centre.

Over to the right, Will saw a shop stocked with clothing, flowing pieces hanging off the mannequins behind the dusty, splintered window. To his left, he caught glimpses of the glittering gems hidden inside a jewellery store, though the bloodstains on the wooden doorframe diverted his gaze.

Separating the two lines of shops, groups of benches sat neglected, surrounded by overgrown grass and weeds. The road was littered with rubbish, stranded cars, the occasional shoe. 

It made the town seem sad, forgotten, as though it no longer mattered to the world, which, he supposed, it didn't.

Still, everything had this old, rustic feel to it, much unlike the concrete city Will was used to. Surrounded by pastel-coloured buildings, the paint peeling and faded, and the bright green of the wild brush, he tried to calm himself; it wouldn't be such a bad place to die.

The ghostly silence was broken by the small groaning noise the zombie made as it stopped in front of one of the shops, startling Will. He froze, looking the building up and down.

Weather-worn, the brickwork was weakened, discoloured. It was a simple store, small, one-story, with intricate wooden frames around the doors and windows. 

What was once, supposedly, brilliant blue pigment painting the panelling that surrounded the front of the shop had lost its spirit, now a gentle baby blue.

It was a coffee shop, he noticed. The plain image of a steaming mug hung outside on a swinging sign, lop-sided from where one of the chains had broken. The glittering letters above the door might have read 'Coffee Café' once, but some of the letters had worn away; now it just said ' o fee C fé'.

He thought he could see tables and chairs inside, perhaps a serving counter. Like the other shops here, dust coated the windowpanes, turning everything behind them fuzzy and hard to distinguish. It seemed desolate, deserted, and a faint rotting smell leaked from inside.

The bell hanging over the door chimed as the zombie heaved its weight against the frame and pushed into the shop.

Oddly enough, Will didn't want to follow. In fact, there was nothing he'd rather do less than accompany a rabid, gruesome corpse into an enclosed space where it would most definitely eat him. 

There were no other walkers in sight; he could easily make a run for it, turn tail and haul ass back down the road. Only, as he took a stumbling step forwards, his legs began to sway and he realised the extent of his exhaustion; he wouldn't make it halfway down the street without collapsing, let alone get himself home in one piece.

From inside the store, the zombie paused. Throwing a stony, frigid look over its shoulder, it snarled. It wanted him to follow it. Will knew he had no other choice.

He let out a small whimper and, regretting everything leading up to this moment, he followed the zombie into the shop.

Will's mouth fell open silently.

Sure, the first thing that struck him was the smell, a mixture of rotten fruit and roadkill, and lacking thirty years worth of maintenance certainly hadn't done any good, but the room itself was nothing like he'd expected.

This was where a zombie _lived_ , its crypt into which it dragged its victims to devour; he'd expected the place to be strewn with the rotten bodies of gorged humans, or be covered in mould and disease and grime.

Instead, the shop was full of piles and piles of _stuff_. Not regular stuff you'd find in a coffee shop, mind you; the objects that filled the room were random in every sense.

In front of him, there lay a stack of books, some pristine with white pages and others with string-bound covers and vintage lettering. There were CDs and magazines scattered across the floor and a pile of empty soda cans next to the tables. Mountains of junk accumulated on the furniture; Will saw everything from a set of toothbrushes to a collection of various car keys. Clothes and pillows lay scattered over the window seat and, on the counter, there sat a row of rubber ducks.

In honesty, Will thought it was freaking _weird_. He'd had a long day; some psychotic, carnivorous hoarder was the last thing he needed.

He slowly stepped forward, eyes fixed on the corpse before him. The zombie was shuffling around by a set of chairs, its back to Will, fiddling with something. It was making a stuttering sound, almost like 'dd-tttt, dd-tttt'.

Will didn't know what to do now; what did it want from him? Perhaps... he didn't want to provoke it, but if it was going to eat him anyway...

"What," he croaked in a whisper. "What do you want?"

The thing flinched at his words but kept its back to Will. Placing the thing down on the table, a bright orange whistle, it made a soft sound, like a hum, and twitched its head.

It was hard to tell, but Will didn't get the 'I'm going to eat you imminently' vibes, so he took a shaky breath.

"Why did you... why did you bring me here?" he sniffled, tears brimming in his eyes. He was past terrified. He just wanted to go home.

The zombie made another noise, louder this time, like an 'Mmmm' sound. Will knew zombies couldn't talk, but its reaction made him keen; he wanted _answers_ , an explanation, wanted to know what on Earth was happening.

Will clenched his hands, choking down a sob. He was tired, hungry, and inches away from death; he wasn't having a fun time.

He snapped his head up as the corpse suddenly turned towards him, giving Will a view of its pale skin and bloodied mouth. Frozen, afraid, he watched as the zombie took two slow steps towards him, gurgling.

He was ready to scream, he was ready to run, just as soon as the thing went for him. 

It didn't.

Just in front of Will, it crouched down on its knees before flopping down to sit on the floor, dragging its legs about in what Will could only assume was an attempt to cross its legs. It reached its blistered arms out to him and hummed another 'Mmmm' before dropping its hands into its lap, blinking at him with wide eyes.

Will stared at it in disbelief.

It... it just... the twisted, distorted flash of humanity that struck him made Will want to scream; there was nothing more horrific, more perverse, than this zombie. This was wrong... this was so wrong...

His body seemed to go into autopilot, either out of shock or terror or perhaps innate fatigue, because he too pulled himself down to the floor. He sat far from the zombie, huddling himself into the corner, and hugged his knees to his chest. 

They sat there, staring, in absolute silence.

Will, despite the urge to look away and bury his face in his knees, forced himself to look at the walker. Without the fast-paced terror he'd felt during the pharmacy attack, he found it somewhat easier to take in its features.

It was a boy, young, around his age, maybe younger... sixteen? He couldn't tell. Its dark black hair fell into its fixed eyes, caked in mud and blood and chunks of... he didn't want to know.

Its clothes seemed old, torn up and dirtied; wearing dark jeans with rips and holes in, T-shirt soaked in its own gore, the zombie looked worn-out and dilapidated.

Past the blood-stained mouth and the purplish sores, its face looked almost innocent, fragile. Like all of its kind, you could still see the echoes of human across its features, though Will knew better than to think of it was anything less than a monster.

The intense eye-contact was too much; for some reason, the zombie never broke its excessive staring, as if it were desperate to watch him closely.

It didn't make sense... none of this made sense. He wanted it to end. He wanted to go home; he wanted his mum.

Slowly, adrenaline finally crashing down Will began to cry. 

It wasn't like earlier, the restrained sobs where he'd gasped for breath and painfully swallowed down the sound; he let himself cry audibly, softly, into his knees just as he had done with his mother the night before last.

Will thought of her, her soft, flowing hair and the way she always smelled like daisies and baked bread; if Clarisse and Piper made it out, made it home... he didn't want to imagine the contortions on her face when they delivered the news that Will wasn't coming home, lost to the hoard. If only they knew where he was now... 

His shoulders shook as the tears squeezed themselves from his heart and chest. His lungs burned, tortuously aware that any breath could be his last. 

He could feel the zombie's eyes boring into him, but he didn't move. The longer he hid away, losing himself in despair, the further death seemed to be. 

He heard a rustle in front of him and was almost too far gone to look up, already knowing what he'd see: the creature was ready, finally hungry.

However, when he finally lifted his head from his lap, he was taken aback; the zombie wasn't crouching, ready to pounce. Instead, it was leaning over to a junk pile under one of the tables, its grubby hand grasping around. 

Eventually, it sat back and pulled with it a little, squashed box.

It turned back to fix Will with those dark, glassy eyes. It fumbled with the object in its hand before, carefully, it held the box out towards Will. The blond sat frozen in perplexity.

He gulped, staring at the offering. Hesitantly, he reached out his hand and gingerly took the box from the creature. Will looked down at what he was holding.

It was, albeit a bit flattened, a tissue box.

Will sucked in a breath. Tissues? He was... he was crying and it... it understood. This went against anything they'd ever thought before; this wasn't possible, this wasn't really... it wasn't possible. It wasn't...

"What are you?" Will gaped in incredulity.

It sat there and twitched its fingers a little bit. If he didn't know better, he'd say it was thinking. Then, it made that awful groaning again. "Mmmm."

It stopped, blinking at Will. It tried again.

"Mmm... ddeh. Mm d-deadd."

Oh... right then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! XD
> 
> Lemme know if you have any suggestions or corrections (and, yes, I actually do write the suggestions you give me, bc mostly they're really good ideas!!)
> 
> Love you all, have a wonderful rest of your day <3


	8. Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! I hope you enjoy this chapter :D
> 
> It's currently half-past one in the morning here in England, so I didn't properly proof read this; if you notice any mistakes or phrases that just seem a bit off, don't hesitate to let me know - I really appreciate it! (Again, I am British, so there are some spelling variants)
> 
> Tell me what you think of this story! I'm so happy to hear all of your ideas; I'm definitely taking all the suggestions into account and so many of you have already guessed where I'm going with this XD You're all fantastic and I love you!
> 
> Thanks for reading!! <3
> 
> (Quick note! I'm literally just about to go off to university! It's all very exciting and, whilst I plan to continue updating as normal, I hope you'll forgive me if I'm a bit slow - please, if I bugger off for ages, leave me a comment reminding me to get writing!!)

Will sat there in horrified disbelief, convinced he was dreaming.

It... it spoke. The zombie. It... it... it wasn't possible.

Once the initial shock had passed, leaving room for coherent thought and fear to seep their way in, he let out a strangled sound, something between a gasp and a cry, and recoiled back further away from the monster; he had never encountered anything more terrifying.

The zombie simply continued to stare at him blankly, seemingly unaware that it was causing the most severe case of internal conflict Will had ever experienced.

Its gaze was too deep, unwavering, and with those dead, glassy eyes boring into his heart, Will knew he'd never feel safe again. 

It was almost methodical, discerning, the way it watched him; it was as though it was examining his every movement, watching with eerie curiosity.

For a while, they just sat there, watching each other... waiting. Will didn't know what either of them were waiting for, but he doubted it involved his immediate and felicitous release.

He continued to gape, unsure of what to do next. He watched as the thing shuffled slightly from where it sat, dragging its clammy fingers across the grimy floor.

This... _that_ had just... against everything he knew, everything he'd been taught, this zombie had just spoken to him. It had understood him, it talked... or, at least, it had tried. 

It was like his brain had been swarmed by millions of fire ants, burning into his skull as he struggled to comprehend the impossible.

He remembered being back in Chiron's class, his first year at the academy. They'd already learnt about the things wandering outside the walls of Olympus, but nothing too detailed. Chiron's lesson changed that.

"This virus," he had said. "It targets the brain immediately upon entry into the body. As humans, we have an extremely effective immune system; we should, theoretically, be able to naturally produce the necessary antibodies to fight off the infection in time. As such, the virus was not a serious problem in the early months, as covered in your history lessons.

However, what we didn't anticipate... was the speed of viral adaptations. Can anyone make a guess as to why the virus targets our brains first?"

"To turn us mindless," piped up Leo, squeaky voice calling from the back of the class. Chiron chuckled.

"No, not that. Think about what I've told you."

Will had thought about it for a moment before raising his hand. "Sir... does it involve the immune system? You said we could easily fight off the virus with antibodies... so the most effective course for the virus would be to shut down the immune system as fast as possible."

Chiron had smiled at him with knowing eyes. "Yes, William. That is exactly correct."

The old man explained that the virus deteriorates the immune system first to prevent recovery, then moves on to harness the remainder of the brain.

The frontal lobe, the hippocampus, everything that makes a human _human_ , all destroyed. Will had shivered at the thought of being degraded to such a being. Although... it did make it easier to adjust to other aspects of academy training; killing zombies seemed more natural when you knew the 'people' part of them was long gone.

It was this factor that was causing Will's head to short-circuit. They had always, always been told that it was the _brain_ that was affected, the _brain_ that was destroyed. There was no other explanation for the virus' behaviour.

Whilst the disease keeps their body moving, their minds are dead; they are dead, unthinking. To understand, to communicate... it wasn't possible.

Yet, as he sat there, sputtering in confusion, the zombie flickered its eyes away from his face and to the tissue box clutched in his hands. Slowly, it reached those bony hands up once again and dragged its fingers across the soft skin just under its eye, mimicking the tears streams down Will's cheeks.

If cognitive understanding physically wasn't possible, how do you explain _that_?

He startled slightly, remembering the strange offering the zombie had given him. With shaky hands, he prised open the top of the squashed, dirty box and pulled out a contrastingly clean sheet of tissue. Will gazed at the soft, white paper for a moment as he held it in his palm.

What in God's name was happening to him?

He was exhausted, hungry. His throat was parched and his limbs sore. He was lost in the middle of nowhere with absolutely no way of getting home alive and _now_... now he was trapped in a dirty coffee shop being eyeballed by a literal, human-eating zombie that just so happened to be, impossibly, able to understand communication.

In all honesty, he'd rather he were dead. As he fumbled at the smooth paper in his rough, cracked hands, he felt yet another wave of tears roll down his face.

Even though the wetness had begun to cling to him uncomfortably, cold in the dingy night's air, and he had snot dribbling from his nose, Will was hesitant to wipe the mess away.

The ever-watching eyes of the zombie made the room seem so small, the counter against his back closing him in. He felt too exposed letting his guard down; the blond wasn't about to cry into a tissue whilst a freakish zombie, something he'd been trained his whole life to kill, sat and ogled at him.

Instead, he swallowed, ceasing his sniffling, and straightened up. He simply scrunched up the paper and dabbed the ball stiffly over his cheeks and nose, keeping his eyes locked on the creature across from him.

However, when he pulled the tissue back, he noticed the smears of greenish-brown slime coating it; recalling the terrible memory of the pharmacy, how the creature had acted, was enough to make him waver his guard just a little.

Hands trembling, he drew in a long breath and stuffed the tissue in his pocket.

Once again, they descended into bitter silence. Will thumped his head back against the counter and hugged his knees closer to him. It was cold and dark in the room, the sun having set during his little existential crisis.

For lack of anything else to do, he listened to the quiet around him; from beyond the cracked walls, he could hear the distant chirping of crickets. Otherwise, the night was soundless.

That was, of course, until the thing started to hum again. Will flinched at the droning 'mmmm' that suddenly escaped its mouth, sending shivers down his spine.

He glimpsed up at the pale, grey zombie; its face had twisted so that its eyebrows were furrowed and its jaw was taut, eyes concentrated on Will.

"Mmm-uh, mmm... uhhh... g-g-ghh..."

His breath hitched as he realised the zombie... the zombie was trying to speak again. The concept still tasted sour in his mouth, but he couldn't help the sudden wave of curiosity that flowed through him.

"How can you talk?" he whispered absentmindedly, only realising he'd spoken aloud once the words had left his mouth.

The zombie stopped its mumbling to tilt its head to the side, blinking at Will. It opened its mouth once more as if to speak, but, when it could only form one, long, gloomy sigh, it drew its lips together and dropped its shoulders sadly; if he didn't know better, he'd say it looked... tired, maybe even lost.

Thankfully, he did know better; zombies couldn't feel those things, they couldn't feel _anything_. This was not some poor creature in need of help. This was a mindless, people-eating monster. It killed... it killed his friends. Their blood was still stained around its mouth.

This was a virus, a body controlled by nothing more than a disease. It didn't get _tired_. It didn't feel _lost_. It didn't feel anything! It was just... it was just...

Will clenched his jaw and looked away. He didn't know _what_ it was, but he wanted nothing to do with it.

A shiver ran through him, the freezing wind from outside breaking in through the crumbling brickwork and thinly paned windows. Already, the night was too long; he just wanted to be home in his comfortable bed, with his family and Mr Cuddles, eating as much delicious food as he could stuff in his mouth.

His stomach growled in complaint; he'd forgotten how hungry he was, his last meal being the small plate of scrambled eggs he'd had early that morning. Despite his hunger, he keened at the thought of having to eat anything in front of his captor.

Nevertheless, he gave in to his tummy's protests, pulling his bum-bag around his waist. The zombie snapped its head towards him as he started foraging through his bag, but Will didn't care; what else did he have left to lose?

Unzipping the small, black bag, he tried to ignore the pair of prying eyes trained on him, watching his every move intrusively. Inside were the few provisions he'd packed for the trip; it was enough to last him three days at most and looked decent enough to get him through the night, though everything was a bit squashed.

Will fished out his water bottle, thankful it hadn't leaked. He pulled out an anti-bacterial wipe from the tiny first-aid kit to clean off the area around his mouth; whilst he was somewhat thankful for the camouflage the zombie-juice gave him, the last thing he needed was an accidental slip-up that resulted in his untimely transformation into a brain-munching creature. Against his instincts, he took little sips, trying to conserve what he had.

There were a total of three small packages stuffed in the main compartment, each containing a sandwich, granola bar, and a shallow tub of honey. Again, he used a fresh wipe to clean off his hands before touching the food, just to be safe.

Briefly, he glanced up to survey the zombie; it had barely moved, glassy orbs still watching his actions. He sighed, irritated, and shook his head. He opened up the foil around the sandwich and took a bite.

Apparently, sandwiches in the old days were made with softer, fluffier bread, something about the flour or the yeast they used, he wasn't sure. Olympus, thanks to the counsellor Demeter, had set up a flour mill before the world shut down, but it wasn't very high-quality. The bread they made always came out dense and grainy.

Right now, Will had never tasted anything better.

It was almost easy to pretend he wasn't in immediate danger when he swallowed bite after bite of the sandwich, eyes fluttering shut, swirling the taste round his mouth; he was starving and the food helped quell his persistent urge to be sick.

As he ate, the zombie shifted from where it sat. Will froze, mouth full of sandwich, to watch the creature as it leant forwards in interest. It dropped its gross, bloodied jaw and hissed at him.

"F-fff... f-f-foodd. F-food-d?" it gargled, eyes flicking up and down between Will and the foil in his hands.

He fought back a look of disgust; had this thing truly become so ravenous for human flesh that it didn't remember what a fucking sandwich looked like?

He cleared his hoarse throat. "Yeah... yeah, this is food," he mumbled, waving the package in its face a little. The zombie groaned again and went back to wordlessly watching Will eat.

He was about to brush the question off and go back to eating his heavenly meal when nauseating a thought flashed across his mind.

"Uh... um, you..." he stuttered. Will lifted a hand to point at himself. "Am... am I? Food, I mean... for you, am I... am I food," he gulped, gesturing to the creature. "For you?"

From its blank expression, Will wondered if the thing might not have understood him, if there was indeed a limit to how much it could use its brain. Then, slowly, it started to lull its head gently from side to side, swaying its chin; it shook its head and slumped its shoulders down.

"N-no," hissed its raspy, unused voice. "N-no-oh. Not-tt... yyy-you."

_Not him._

"Why?" he questioned, the words spilling out before anything else could come to mind.

It froze, mulling it over. Through the suspended silence, Will could hear his heart thumping in his chest. After a beat, two, three... the zombie twitched.

The corners of its sick, bloodied mouth convulsively perked up higher and higher until it had a small, contorted smile severing its face; it pointed right at him with a twitching finger, leaning in closer. "Mmm-min-ne. M-mine."

Suddenly, his sandwich didn't taste so good; he could feel it dangerously trying to chuck itself back up his throat.

He clenched his hands into angry fists, crushing the remainder of his food. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he cursed, tossing the ruined sandwich down in exasperation.

What was he to this creature? A possession? The hell did it mean... _'mine'_? How perfect: he'd landed the one zombie in all of existence that wanted to own a human instead of eat one. 

He was a prisoner... the creature kidnapped him.

"This is just fantastic!" he spat, seething at the monster before him. He could feel himself wanting to cry again, but he doubted he had any tears left to spill; he threw his head back down onto his knees and whimpered.

He barely startled when he heard it start to mumble again in eager agreement. "Fan-n... t-tass-tt-ttic. Mmhhm..."

Obviously, the zombie didn't pick up on Will's blatant sarcasm. He raised his eyes just enough off of his knees to shoot the freak a look of hatred before flopping back down.

His head started to swim. _'It won't hurt me...'_

Maybe it was the pure exhaustion, perhaps the dehydration, or maybe it was the deep-set fear wreaking havoc throughout his body... for some reason, Will foolishly believed the thing: it wouldn't hurt him. It chose not to.

He chuckled sadly. "Why me?" he groaned to the heavens, to whatever gods were listening. "Why me..."

The zombie flinched at his words as they echoed around the neglected coffee shop. Squinting at him, it mumbled something under its breath in answer. Will ignored it, nuzzling his face into his knees.

It started stirring on the floor, slowly crawling closer to him, continuing to mutter incoherently. By the time Will clocked what it was doing, it was too late.

Just as it had done in the pharmacy, the zombie suddenly flung itself at him, its limbs jerking as though it couldn't control its own movements. Will tried to scramble away, but, with the counter behind him, he had nowhere to go.

His heart hammering, adrenaline through the roof, he stared into the creatures dark, black eyes. It hovered over him, its face so close to Will that he could smell the stench of blood staining its lips.

He grimaced. " _God_... why do you keep doing that?" he whined, shuddering from the unwarranted contact. "Get away from me!"

The zombie cocked its head, swallowing breathlessly. "Ahhh," it gurgled in his face, making the boy recoil away in disgust. "Ah-ehh, eyes-ss."

Confused, he shook his head. "Eyes? What do you mean," he whined, trying to push the zombie off him despairingly. "I don't understand! Just..."

Will chocked out a sob; even though it wasn't trying to hurt him, the zombie was so close, its fingers grasping lightly at his legs, that he couldn't take it anymore. He needed to get out. "Just let me go! Let me leave!" he screamed.

It twitched. He felt the cold hands on him suddenly clench, digging tightly into Will's skin. The zombie's face dropped from that lost, confused expression into a look of fear and anger; he froze as it let out a low growl.

"Rrrghh," it snarled. "Nn-n... no. N-no. No."

He wailed from under the creature; he was a prisoner here. "No?" he sobbed. "Why the hell not?"

From here, Will could see the distinct purple veins running down its neck; the fluid beneath was black from age, rotten, neglected. Its skin was scarily translucent and it held no light behind its eyes. 

He didn't know what he was thinking, trying to talk to it, trying to communicate when he knew it wouldn't understand; this thing was clearly anything but human.

It gawked at him, still ridiculously close, movements jerky. Amongst the anger and irritation, Will was terrified, utterly clueless of what the corpse would do.

Then... it tentatively relaxed the bruising grip on his legs. The zombie lolled its head about, averting its eyes. It hummed, but this time with much less confidence. Will watched with wonder as its movements softened.

Gently releasing one of his legs, it reached a hand forward and draped it across Will's chest; he tried not to blench as it pushed against him lightly. "S-s-sa... safff... s-safe," it stuttered out. It still wasn't meeting his eyes, but Will briefly caught the sheepish look it was trying to swallow down.

Coughing up a raspy breath, it brought its blistered hand back to rest over its own chest. "Sss... safe wh-wh-with mmmm-me, me. Safe w-with me."

Will spluttered, mouth agape, but didn't know what to say. It... it... Will was almost scared to blink lest he wake up from this bizarre dream. The pharmacy, the zombie-goo, bringing him here; _safe_... it just wanted to keep him safe.

He gulped nervously. "Fine... fine," he muttered. "Just... get off me, please."

To his relief, the creature understood, climbing carefully off of him, albeit a little reluctantly; it huffed and grumbled as it settled itself back down on the floor, though it sat a lot closer to Will than before. They locked eyes and Will found himself searching for answers through the cloudy white glaze.

Whilst he was thankful for the separation, to be able to breathe fresh air again, he instinctively leaned in towards the creature as he pondered. "So, you _can_ understand me. You can actually understand what I'm saying?"

It nodded, expressionless, and Will scoffed. This was impossible; he practically laughed at the absurdity of it all. "Seriously... what are you?"

The zombie shrugged, blinking. "Mmm, deh...de-"

"Yeah, you said that," he grunted. "I mean _what_ are you? You shouldn't be able to... but you're not... you're..."

"Dd-difff...rent-t," it offered.

"Different?" he repeated, unsure if he'd heard right.

It nodded again and hummed, dropping its gaze to its hands. The way it held them in its lap, its grey fingers twitching, the thing seemed... small.

Will raised an eyebrow, his interest skyrocketing. "Different how?"

"Mm-mmm... ffff... th-thinn-k. Thinn-ck-ck-ck."

"You can think?"

"Mhmm." It continued to mumble incoherent syllables. "Tnn-ck. L-l-loo... ck-king. Shhh... ch, ch-ahhh... ange."

"But..." Will contended, running his fingers through his slimy hair, ignoring the zombie's drones. "But that's not possible. The virus takes over the brain... you literally can't think. Zombies can't think."

"Mhm," it agreed. "C-cah...n't. Dd-ifferrr...ent."

"Different..."

Unable to do much else, it nodded once again.

It went against everything he'd ever believed in, but how could he ignore what was right in front of him? There was no doubting it: this zombie, for whatever reason... was different.

Could it really think? There had to be something, a mutation perhaps, that changed the effects of the disease living inside it. Its body was definitely past its sell-by date, but its mind...

"So... so it's... it's your brain. The virus didn't... doesn't... how much do you remember?"

The zombie had shuffled closer to the counter and, mimicking Will, rested its head against the smooth, grubby surface. "Hmm... don-n't, rem-meh....er."

He swallowed, nibbling the inside of his cheek. "You don't... you don't remember? Like, at all?"

"Mmm," it hummed sadly. It gazed wistfully at Will and he, against his better judgement, kind of felt sorry for the thing; it seemed to have no clue who it was... maybe it didn't even know it used to be human.

"Do you, um..." he started, rubbing his forehead. This whole situation made his head hurt. "Gods, I can't believe I'm talking to a zombie," he hissed to himself. This whole thing was ridiculous.

He groaned, looking back to the creature. "Do you, I don't know, have a... a name, or something? Do you remember your name?"

Suddenly, it perked up, looking much happier. "Mhmm," it buzzed gleefully.

"You do?" he stuttered, shocked that something as filthy and wasted as this would even think to remember its _name_. "Christ... okay, sure. What's your name?"

It opened its mouth, but no sound came out. It faltered, dropping its shoulders and staring sadly at Will.

He cleared his throat, nearly pitiful for the creature. "It's okay... if you can't, you know, say it. You can tell me later, yeah?" It responded eagerly, lips tugging up in hope.

Will shook his head and returned his gaze to his knees. Even though he wasn't as bothered by the proximity of the infected death-machine sitting next to him as he was when this whole thing kicked off, the quiet that fell between them was excruciatingly uncomfortable.

He was probably the first person _ever_ to get this kind of opportunity, to be able to talk to a zombie and have it answer back with its words instead of its teeth; sitting in silence just seemed... wrong, wasteful.

"So..." he hummed, whistling to fill the stillness. He was drawn to the piles of stuff surrounding them, the tables and chairs stacked with nick-nacks and garbage. "What is all this?" he asked, gesturing to the junk around him. 

Will nearly choked in surprise when the zombie suddenly sat up, alert; to his amazement, it started wiggling about, like a sort of... perverted 'happy dance'. It hummed contently, reaching a hand out to brush against a box full of glittering bracelets, a small glint of light flickering through its face.

He had to take a few moments to recover from the shock, mouth hanging open like a goldfish; he didn't expect it to get so... well, to be fair, there were a lot of things he didn't expect the zombie to do. He thought, perhaps, he should stop thinking of the zombie as 'predictable'.

"Did you," he coughed, shaking himself out of his minor daze. "Did you do this? Uh, bring all of this here?"

The zombie stilled for a moment, thinking, before giving a small nod. Will huffed and leant back against the counter, glancing around at the mess.

There were piles and piles of trinkets and gadgets littered about; it must've taken the zombie years to compile this sweeping mass of stuff, especially in its, ah... _slow_ condition. As his eyes flicked over a stack of magazines thrown into the corner beside him, he tried to comprehend the concept.

"How long did it take you?" he wondered aloud. He looked over to the zombie, who was watching him closely again, its jaw slack. "You can't be older than, what, seventeen, eighteen... how long have you lived here, erm," he coughed, catching his own mistake. "Sorry... how long have you _been_ here?"

It gazed at Will sadly, its tongue flicking out between its lips. Then, it shrugged its shoulders and mumbled something he didn't quite catch. Judging by its response, Will figured it either didn't know... or it was a very long time. After all, zombies didn't age; who knew how long he'd been like this...

 _It_. Not he. It... a zombie. Monster.

Just because it was different didn't mean it was... different. It was still a corpse, still infected. It wasn't human.

Will hazarded one more glance at the thing. It was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rocking back and forth slightly like a child. It smacked its lips as it stared around the room.

He watched with interest as the thing wiggled about. Will noticed how it kept picking at the skin on its fingers, like a nervous tic or habit. Even though it was dirty, covered in blood and mud, it seemed neat, simplistic, young features still evident despite the decay.

Its shaggy, black hair was overgrown, flopping across his eyes, and fell down almost to its shoulders. From the looks of it, it had probably been skinny before becoming a zombie; now, practically its entire skeleton was visible through its skin, bones protruding and cheeks hollow.

It leant over to a wooden crate resting against a chair; as the zombie rifled through it, Will glanced over and nearly chuckled when he saw that it was filled with a sizable collection of rubber ducks. 

He couldn't imagine how lonely it must feel, to be lost like that; the zombie seemed almost... happy, smiling as it picked out a duck to its liking. It was just a boy; it wasn't that much different than Will. 

It was just a kid. He... _he_ was just a kid.

Will sighed. When he thought about it like that... he realised that this broken thing _was_ human once and, for whatever reason, he'd been able to hold on to some of that behaviour; despite the virus so clearly tethering him down, Will wondered if he still had some humanity left in him.

Ah, who was he kidding? The zombie sat across from him, twiddling a pink rubber duck in his palms, was nothing more than a stupid, ravaging monster. Unfortunately for Will, he didn't have much other choice in companions; he was stuck with the weird one.

"God... I need to sleep," he groaned, knowing full well sleep wasn't a possibility. This was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that was okay! :D
> 
> Again, if you spotted and wording that seemed off or spellings that were wrong, just shoot me a comment. I really hate mistakes in my work! I'm going to be going through and editing my stuff soon to trying and omit any mistakes I made xxx
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Have a virtual flower as a token of my appreciation <3


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